Variations on a Theme
by wizzcat
Summary: A series of hopefully related stories and one-shots. Part of the 100 Themes Challenge for the Fangirl Harem, but really just an excuse for me to write fluff. Second chapter up and Jareth's having a bad day, while Sarah's getting mad. Will update as I can.
1. Number 31  Flowers

_AN - Thanks for taking the time to read. Part of the 100 Themes Challenge for the Jareth/Bowie Fangirl Harem. Basically you choose a number from a list of 100 themes and then write something about the prompt that relates to it. I'm planning on doing a theme a chapter, I'm even contemplating continuing with this storyline so chapters would be related, I'll see how I get on or if this first part is well received!_

_Just to say, anyone reading from outside of the UK, we spell some words differently here (colour not color etc). But as Sarah's an American I've tried to use the correct terms where she's concerned (trash instead of rubbish etc)._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Labyrinth characters etc etc._

* * *

**No. 31 - Flowers**

Up until this week, Henry had really been enjoying his job. Granted he was only a delivery guy, the pay wasn't great, parking could be a bitch and today he'd had to climb up five flights of stairs, but cheesy as it sounded he'd really felt like he was delivering some happiness – judging from the responses he usually got and job satisfaction was important to him.

Until this week.

He pitied the poor lovesick fool that was trying to crack his one; everyday for the past week he'd delivered the most exquisite flower bouquets to the very pretty – _but obviously insane_ – brunette that lived behind the door he currently stood in front of.

If he was the one sending them he'd have given up and moved on days ago, whatever the guy had done flowers definitely weren't working. She'd refused to open the door to him yesterday, which he supposed was better than Wednesday when she threw the flowers back at him, or Tuesday when she'd pulled the heads off and stamped them into the ground or Monday when the redhead with the accent had pushed him up against the wall demanding information about the sender – then tried to slip him her number.

Well today, he was just going to leave them by the door, knock, then run for his life and if he showed up for work tomorrow and had to deliver her more flowers – he was quitting…

* * *

"Don't open it!" The brunette in question yelled.

"Oh Sarah – what did you get today, wonder if it's still the same delivery man or do you think we've scared him off like last the last two?" Lucy laughed opening the door to the outside hallway.

"Well, I'm glad you're still finding this funny – don't you dare bring those in here!" Sarah called out after her.

"Why ever not?" her friend replied now appearing with a large dark mass of cellophane and stems.

"Well, for a start we're completely out of vases" Sarah stated sarcastically.

"Sweetie, we ran out of vases weeks ago – Ooh, 'Mr Mystery' has really out-done himself this time, you have to see these ones – I've never seen flowers like them."

"You said that last yesterday."

Lucy continued anyway. "Yes but, for a start they're black, I mean really black, not just a dark shade of red or purple… I didn't think that was even possible. And they're… they're all glittery and I'm not talking tacky seasonal flower glittery either, it's actually part of the petals, it doesn't rub off – look – these must have cost a fortune."

Sarah cast a glance in the little redhead's direction; she was holding out a large rose, while rubbing the black petals between her fingers. If there was anyone who knew about expensive things it was Lucinda, she'd moved to the US from the UK two years ago when her parents had split up and her father's monthly contribution to the rent was the only reason they weren't bunking up in dorms right now. She'd been given the finest things money could buy except for maybe the one thing she truly craved – parental love.

A psychiatrist would have a field day with her.

"Just put them in the trash." Sarah replied.

"You know for a stalker, he has impeccable taste – even the 'trust-fund boys' couldn't afford to send all these… so they probably came from someone much older than us."

"By a few centuries at least." Sarah murmured quietly.

They'd started arriving three weeks ago on her twenty-first birthday and everyday since. Though she'd had her suspicions from day one, initially she'd felt flattered and intrigued but as the days progressed and the bouquets got more and more unusual, elaborate, and generally 'otherworldly' she'd started to doubt if such flowers even really existed. Until a bunch showed up that contained delicate little white blooms that she knew were real because she'd seen them once before – at the time they were weaving their way up around a stonewall and large wooden gates…

Now she could no longer deny to herself who the sender was.

"Have you waited on any attractive rich guys lately at the coffee shop? I know! What if they're from one of your college profs, you got that A+ for your last assignment?"

"Stop it! They are NOT from one of my college Professors." Sarah stormed.

"For your sake I hope not, comb-overs and cardigans would be a real passion killer – I could always try roughing-up the delivery guy again?" Lucy asked hopefully, her blue eyes flashing with mischief.

"Lucy!" Sarah snorted, trying not to laugh.

"Well, we need to find out who wants to get into those iron-cast knickers of yours, it might be the only action you get this semester."

"Well at least I wear underwear." Sarah shot back with a smile.

"Well maybe Miss Williams, that's the problem."

"Lucinda Hamilton-Jones you have no shame!"

"None" she said handing Sarah the roses. "But if it makes you feel better we could always try ramming these down the garbage disposal unit again?"

Laughing they headed for the kitchen, the glittery petals catching Sarah's eye, they really were quite something; maybe it wouldn't hurt to keep just one…

* * *

Jareth viewed the scene through his crystal, the flowers obviously weren't working – did he need to make it even more obvious that they were from him?

He'd been uncharacteristically patient, waiting until she was considered of age before recommencing the courtship, however he conceded, perhaps he was being a tad excessive but he had started to feel like time was running out. He'd witnessed some of the antics that redheaded harlot got Sarah involved with and he would not have HIS green-eyed little minx corrupted by anyone else but him!

He contemplated the scene in the crystal again, maybe it had been a mistake to try something new where Sarah was concerned, perhaps he should stick to tried and tested methods – like stealing her brother again?

He did so enjoy a challenge…

* * *

Henry knocked on the door and waited anxiously, what the hell was he doing back here again he thought eyeing the large cellophane wrapped basket in front of him – he sure hoped that she liked fruit a lot better than she did flowers!

* * *

_AN - Thanks for reading! What did you think?_


	2. Number 23  Cat

_AN - So, right or wrong I've managed to link the next theme into the last one. Although I think doing all 100 themes in one storyline would be completely unrealistic, I am going to try and continue linking them together as long as people want me too or until I write myself into a corner and have to start a new story. There may also be times when picking a theme at random just doesn't work within the storyline, if that happens I'll choose another one until it does – I hope that's not cheating!_

_View it as part of the challenge, not a proper story and it should work fine, with this in mind chapter lengths may vary at times (some may end up being just drabbles) and won't have the same level of detail or flow between them as a proper story would._

_Confused? Yep, me too! This should be a fun journey, I seriously have no idea where it's heading..._

_To everyone that reviewed or added the story, it meant a lot – thanks!_

* * *

**No. 23 - Cat**

Jareth sat perched uncomfortably on the very edge of his throne, fingers prised so tightly around the now empty brandy glass they were in danger of losing their circulation. One definitely was not going to be enough. Not after the experience he'd just had. It was going to take at least two to settle his nerves – possibly three – he thought willing the glass to refill.

However, one large gulp later and he was back to square one – definitely three – he concluded starting the process again.

Things had certainly not gone according to plan. The game was usually one of his favourites, he revelled in the thrill of the chase and owls were predators after all, so the hunt was almost second nature to him. But what had just transpired had been completely unacceptable.

He'd meticulously planned everything down to the very last detail, so the dream would be the same as the one she herself had fashioned six years previously. The gown of moonlight, the ballroom of muted earthy tones mixed with brightness and light, the inviting cushion pit, the decadent chandeliers, the dancers with questionable moral standards… All the original elements were present and he'd been looking forward to any additions her maturity would undoubtedly bring.

He'd even worn the same midnight blue frock coat and that was six years old for heavens sake!

All he'd needed to do was choose a particularly voluptuous woman to start dancing with and the scene was perfectly set… Yes, every last detail had been correct – every last detail except the most important one.

When the dreamer had entered the ballroom, it had almost rendered him incapable, if he'd been thinking clearly he would have just simply reordered time. Instead he'd resorted to hiding behind his large breasted dancing partner and her equally large fan.

It hadn't worked. The dreamer had still sought him out – they always did.

Stalking him with feline grace she moved purposely across the floor… looking ready to pounce.

And when she beckoned him into the dance, he thought why not? He'd already invested so much time and effort it would have been demoralising to simply dissolve the dream around them now – In for a penny, in for a pound and all that tra-la-la…

But she had another thing coming if she thought he was going to sing to her!

Taking her into his arms they moved gracefully around the dance floor. He supposed it was a pleasant enough distraction, a way to pass the time, her dancing was tolerable and he'd even started to enjoy himself a little, until her dreams and desires launched a full frontal attack on his senses turning her gown of innocence into a garish shade of red.

Red... really! With her colouring?

And when those influences had started to alter their surroundings, bending and shaping them around her own fantasies, and even those deviants dancing past had started to look worried. As they moved around the ballroom, he could taste every hope and aspiration the girl possessed.

Oh dear. This one had major parental issues – but didn't they all in his line of work?

So when she'd looked up at him with those big blue eyes, he'd almost felt sorry for her… until she whispered something vaguely obscene in his ear, placed her hand on his backside and squeezed it hard.

He'd then done the only thing he could think of – made his excuses and escaped to the sanctity of his throne room. She'd probably emptied out the ballroom by now, or worse still, turned it into some kind of strip-club…

* * *

After climbing five flights of stairs Sarah felt like her legs were going to give out. Why was the elevator always broken? She opened the door to the apartment cautiously, half expecting something floral and glittery to accost her at any moment. She was going to have to 'do something' about HIM, but seriously – she had no idea what. Her current approach of 'just ignore him until he goes away' didn't appear to be working.

"Lucy, I'm home – something smells nice?" She called out heading for the kitchen.

She was right. There on the kitchen counter was a very tempting looking pie with a slice already out of it – still warm too. Apricot, she thought looking at the yellowy-orange filling, so she grabbed a plate and cut herself a slice.

Where was Lucy anyway? She wondered making her way to the living room.

They were supposed to be going out tonight, but after a double shift at the coffee shop all Sarah wanted to do was kick off her shoes and flop down on the sofa – something a little difficult to do when your roommate is sprawled out fast asleep on it.

"Lu-cy" Sarah sung to her sleeping friend, "wakey-wakey, it's almost seven."

Lucy opened her eyes smiling.

"Oh Sarah! I was having the most delicious dream."

Sarah recognised that look – Oh – one of _THOSE_ dreams was it?

"He was bloody gorgeous, I mean, seriously beautiful for a man. A little retro maybe and you should have seen his trousers – they were sinfully tight, but it so worked on him."

"Really?" Sarah said intrigued but a little alarm bell had started to sound in her head.

"And we were in this fairytale ballroom and it was all Cinderella" Lucy beamed. "But with perverts… wearing masks." She added with a puzzled look.

Mask wearing perverts? Well, that sounded pretty normal for one of Lucy's dreams, so her inner alarm bell turned down a notch.

"And he had the most amazing eyes I've ever seen – I swear they were two different colours."

Sarah's inner alarm bell turned up to deafening volume and her untouched slice of pie started to look a lot less tempting…

"Lucy, what kind of pie is this?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Peach" Lucy smiled.

Sarah felt sick.

"And he danced perfectly" Lucy continued.

"Did… did, he sing to you?" She asked trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Lucy shook her head and Sarah breathed an unexpected sigh of relief.

"But he did have a lovely firm arse."

"WHAT? HOW? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. That glittery son of a bitch!" Sarah stormed, her emerald eyes turning a deeper shade of green.

"Sarah?"

"Baby stealing bastard" she hissed.

"What? Sarah, you alright? How many espressos have you had today?"

"Peach poisoning pervert, can't get a date without drugging someone first." She muttered noticing the large unwrapped basket on the dining table. "What were you doing cooking with _those_?" she said pointing at the offending items.

Lucy just shrugged and calmly added, "they looked fine to me – you're always saying we don't eat enough fruit." And not for the first time lately, Lucy had the feeling again there was something Sarah just didn't want to tell her...

* * *

Gazing once more into an empty glass, Jareth reflected on the failure of the game. Yes, up until now it had always been a firm favourite of his. He did so enjoy a good game of cat and mouse, but NOT when somebody else played the role of the cat – the King of the Goblins was nobody's prey!

Perhaps though, a sly smile creeping over his lips, this could still work to his advantage…

* * *

_Thanks for reading. What did you think? I might make Henry eat a peach next... it's very tempting, poor Jareth! ;)_


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